


I could get used to it.

by D_writes



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: A little angst, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, They are in love your honour, but like not too much, it's about the mirror, of course it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_writes/pseuds/D_writes
Summary: Beau can't stop thinking about *that* comment Yasha made.Yasha decides to pay a visit.Post 111
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 46
Kudos: 470





	1. Beauregard

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was vaguely inspired by this post by tumblr user sourslip:
> 
> GOD I'm so here for Beau pining but REALLY my fav dynamic is Yasha, soft and openly enjoying the butterflies and warm tingly feelings of falling in love again and beau, allergic to emotions and only just beginning to take benadryl for it constantly trying to play it cool around Yasha because now she isn't just hot for Yash but like ACTUALLY having feelings that aren't forever unreciprocated and she KNOWS Yash has loved before, like enough to MARRY the woman, so she obviously knows what good is and WHAT IF BEAU DOESNT LIVE UP TO IT and like. She knows these are unhealthy thoughts. She knows she is loved and she knows she's deserving of good things bc she's not a terrible being and she's been working to actually believe that more but. Old habits, she feels vulnerable and seen and not just seen platonically but OH GOD MAYBE ROMANTICALLY???
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Beau still not being able to let her feelings show when she's aware of them in front of Yasha vs Yasha, aware of her own feelings and slowly letting herself openly enjoy them once more and just openly heart-eyes-ing at beau is all I need

Beau looks at her reflection and it stares back at her. She should probably close her eyes if she wants to get going with this damn sleeping business. Although first, she should probably blow out the candles. It just seemed weird to lie in the dark with an exposed mirror above her. She just wanted to get a good look at it before covering it back, that’s it. That’s a reasonable thing to do, right?

She’s sure Caleb was full of good intentions when he conjured it. Theoretically, great idea. If Beauregard were in the right mood to find one or - why not - two friendly ladies willing to keep her company, the mirror would make a great addition to a fun night. Too bad all she can think about is... _ugh_.

She’s pretty sure she got into bed facing the right direction, but she somehow managed to twist and flip and turn until she found herself lying upside down, tangled in a mess of bedsheets, half of the pillows fallen onto the floor. She grabs one that’s still on the mattress and presses it over her face to muffle a throaty groan of frustration she just can’t hold down.

 _That’ll be useful_.

“Useful for what, Yasha? What’s your plan? Why would you say that? What does it mean?” Beau mumbles against the pillow, then bites it down with a little, pathetic high-pitched growl. She peeks above the pillow to watch herself absolutely losing it over an offhanded comment, probably made just for laughs. She does that, Yasha. She jokes. Sometimes. Her delivery is so deadpan, though, you can’t actually tell.

But that was definitely a joke.

She saw how Fjord’s jaw dropped, how Jester elbowed him excitedly. She saw the satisfied smirk on Caleb’s face. Yasha got a good reaction out of them. “Well fucking played, Yasha!” she scoffs throwing her pillow against the headboard.

A faint knocking startles her. She instinctively flattens herself against the mattress.

_Fuck. Shit. Damn._

She told Jester she could come to her room if she didn’t want to sleep alone, but she didn’t expect the thiefling to take her up on it. She’s not in the mood to chat. Actually, scrap that, maybe talking to Jester would help. Maybe she’s making a mountain out of a molehill.

More knocking.

“Uuuh come in,” she blurts out before she’s decided whether it’s a good idea or not.

She hears the door creaking open, some slow steps, the door being shut again. There’s a distinctively un-Jesterlike pause.

“How’s that mirror working for you?”

Beau’s eyes spring open when she hears Yasha’s calm, warm voice. There’s a hint of amusement in her tone, which is unsurprising given that Beau is sprawled on the mattress, head where her feet are supposed to be, looking up at the infamous mirror.

“Gr- good, fine. It’s chill. No big. Nice frame, gold leaf and shit,” she rambles.

She feels the mattress dip behind her as Yasha sits on the edge, a couple of feet away from her head. For a moment, she can see the white root of her hair in the reflection, then Yasha looks up and she has to look away.

“Nice frame, yeah,” Yasha confirms with a thoughful nod, “Caleb has good taste.”

“I would necessarily call this tasteful,” Beau comments.

“Why not?” Yasha asks innocently.

_Shit. Fuck. Balls._

“ I-it just... bed... mirror, you know, above- it’s sort of- it’s not exactly... mh. I just mean-”

“Beau.” Yasha cuts her off and Beau shuts her mouth with a small _clack_. “I’m fucking with you.”

She smiles. Beau can’t see it but she can hear the little huff she lets out. It’s gentle and mischievous and when did Yasha get this cheeky? Beau feels her neck getting warm as she tries to find a shred of dignity.

“I- yeah, of course. Pff. Yeah.”

“Did my comment make you uncomfortable, earlier?” Yasha asks. She asks in a way that feels entirely in control, like she’s stirring the conversations somewhere, while Beau has no idea where this is going and it’s driving her crazy. She does her best to keep it together.

“Nah, it’s cool. I mean, I always make that kind of comments, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you kinda do,” Yasha confirms, almost fondly. There’s a beat, then she adds: “How does it feel to be on the receiving end of it?”

Oh.

After a second of stunned silence, Beau groans defeated. That’s what this is. Yasha’s teaching her a lesson and boy is it working. Beau whispers a _fuck_ , scrunching her nose as it hits her. She rubs a palm on her face, trying to wipe away the expression of someone who definitely got got. It probably doesn’t work.

“Fuck, Yasha, I...” she takes a moment to measure her words, feeling she’s getting into delicate territory. She takes a deep breath and starts over. “Yasha, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been flirting with you like a dumbass since we met while you were grieving someone you lost, and I feel so fucking awful about it. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it was just a stupid thing cause you look so tough and frankly so hot I didn’t think it would do any harm and anyway that’s how I deal with stuff, ok? N-not that you're "stuff", you are a great person and... barbarian and you have wings? Like, that’s a lot. Anyway I know I only, like, do it front of everybody and I can see now how that’s not cool and maybe a bit confusing and-” Beau finds herself short-breathed and has to take a small break, which somehow helps her brain cool down, if just a little, “Anyway, I’m sorry and I learned my lesson and I won’t do it again.”

 _Fuuuuck_.

Yasha, who’s been listening in silence without facing her, slowly lowers herself on the mattress and lies next to Beau. Their eyes meet in the mirror for a moment, then Yasha’s gaze moves further, almost through the mirror and into a mysterious space where Beau can’t quite follow her.

“That’s not... Beau, I wasn’t trying to teach you a lesson.” A thoughtful frown knits her eyebrows for a moment before she smooths it out with a finger. She always talks with purpose, measures every word, Beau thinks. Exactly what she doesn’t seem to be able to do. “Actually, I wanted to thank you.”

“You... wanted to thank me,” Beau repeats, now officially confused.

“Yes.” Another pause. Beau thinks the suspense will kill her. “You made me feel... desired, which something I haven’t felt in a long time. But it was never too serious, and it didn’t put any pressure on me. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself,” Yasha absent-mindedly brings a thumb to her mouth to picks at its skin with her teeth.

“N-no, yeah, it- it makes sense,” Beau reassures her, “it was all in good fun, I wasn’t expecting anything out of it.” She shrugs her shoulders, trying to sound casual. Her eyes search for Yasha’s in the mirror, desperate to read her mood, to understand if she’s ok.

“I wasn’t in a place where I could allow myself to act on it,” Yasha adds, and finally her eyes perk up, finding Beau’s “but it felt good. To know someone could think about it me that way.”

“Yash, of course! You’re like, super hot,” Beau scoffs, and Yasha’s mouth stretches in a gentle smile before she looks away again.

“Well, the way you did it made me feel... safe, too.”

Beau wants to say something, her mouth is already half-open to say possibly the dumbest things her brain has ever conjured, she can feel it. Instead, her mind goes blank. Her eyes travel over Yasha’s upside down features, the tattoo on her chin, the way she fumbles with her fingers.

“So, thank you.”

“S-sure, yeah, no problem. Anytime. I kinda stopped after, you know, you told us about Zuala-”

“I know.”

“I thought it’d be indelicate-”

“No, yes, I appreciate it.”

“Cool cool cool.”

“You’re very thoughtful.”

Silence. Beau watches as they both lie stiffly on the mattress, hand over their respective stomachs, their gaze trying to find and avoid each other at the same time.

“Soooo... were you trying to, like, return the favour or...?”

“Mh?”

“Like, with your comment. About the mirror. You know, how it would be useful and stuff. Were you trying to make me feel- You know what, forget it.”

“I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Oh,” Beau clears her throat, “Yeah, cool, mission fucking accomplished.”

“And maybe say that I’m in a different place now.”

Silence.

“A more... lighthearted place.”

More silence.

Beau’s heart skips several beats when she feels the weight being lifted from the mattress as Yasha stands up.

“Have a good night, Beau.”

She hears a few steps behind her, the door opening slowly. Before her brain can catch up, her body has already sprung up and backflipped onto the floor. She hears her own voice calling: “Yasha, wait!”

Yasha waits, hand on the doorknob, and turns just enough to face her. It’s weird, Beau thinks, to see her upright, her features stacked and arranged the right way, instead of reflected and upside down. She’s almost not ready to face how beautiful she is.

_Shit, why can’t I just think before I start speaking?_

Yasha tilts her head, patiently.

“I just wanted to say that I, too, am in a different place.”

The barbarian frowns ever so slightly.

“I never did, you know, feelings before, but I have some now. F-for you. In fact, sometimes could almost see us sort of being a thing one day. W-what I mean is that I care about you, it’s not just flirting and stuff.”

A pause.

“Still no pressure, bro,” she adds with an awkward smile, gently bumping Yahsa’s shoulder with her fist, “Just putting it out there. Which feels, like, suuuuper weird and kinda scary.”

Yasha turns to fully face Beau, lips slightly parted. She looks more surprised than upset, which is probably not a terrible sign.

“Beau, I...”

“Good night!” Beau pushes Yasha outside the room and slams the door in her face. She then sprints to the bed and quite literally dives back in it, burying her head under a pillow.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

There’s a knock. Beau refuses to answer.

“Beau...”

“Actually she’s not here, actually!” Beau replies in an atrocious imitation of Jester’s accent.

The door opens again - _shit, why didn’t she lock it?_ \- Yasha walks up to the bed - _shit, she’s still hiding under a pillow like a moron_ \- Yasha sits down - _shit, her heart's about to explode._

“Beau.”

Beau doesn’t move, fingers digging into the pillow.

“Mh. Yes?” her voice cracks a little and all she wants is for the mattress to swallow her.

“You have feelings for me?”

There it is, out in the open. Real. The most terrifying things she’s ever had to face in her entire life, pronounced by the most beautiful lips she’s ever seen. Oh, to be in a low rate tavern being absolutely railed by a beautiful half-orc! How much easier that would be...

“Why would you say that and then kick me out?”

Yasha’s voice sounds confused and sort of amused. Beau finally tears the pillow off her face and takes a deep breath.

“Because you’re an awesome barbarian angel who mates for life I’m a dumb fuckboy monk worth nothing more than the price of the clothes I’m wearing, that’s why.”

Yasha blinks once and says nothing.

“And maybe, like, five months ago I would have been more than happy to just have, - she flails her arms as if it could help her explaining - fun with you, and I know you’re in a more - she dramatically signs a couple of air quotes - ‘lighthearted mood’ now, but I’m just trying to tell you not to play with me because I may end up heartbroken and I have no idea how to deal with that. Now if you don’t mind-” She pulls the pillow back to cover her face and sulk in peace, but Yasha’s big hand comes to push it back.

“You’re being very dramatic, Beauregard Lionett.”

The calmness in her voice is infuriating.

“Well, I’ve never been in love before!”

_Fuck._

Beau immediately covers her mouth with a hand, but it’s too late. Yasha’s eyebrows shoot up, her lips twitch in an almost smile as she watched Beau’s ear turn a bright shade of red. She readjusts her position a little, then gently takes Beau’s hand - that one that’s not pointlessly clamping her mouth - and rubs a thumb over it.

“Beau, I would never play with you, I promise.”

Beau knows that. Yasha’s not the type to fuck around and disappear. She just... disappears without the fucking, but that’s another story.

“Look, I have no idea if I’m ready for... whatever this is.”

“Yeah, no, same,” Beau confirms before realising she should probably shut up and let Yasha speak.

“But I... care about you too.”

There’s something in the way she looks at Beau, in the way her voice lowers slightly, that tells Beau they are both using the word “care” in place of something else, something scarier.

They remain still for a long time, unsure on what to do. Beau’s brain is having a hard time processing everything that’s happened, and she’s acutely aware that the smallest thing may shatter the miracle of an entire conversation happening between the two of them.

It’s Yasha who breaks the silence.

“I don’t really feel like leaving.”

Beau’s heart is beating fast and hard, rumbling in her ears, in her throat.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

"Maybe I can just-”

“Lie here with me.”

Yasha hesitates for a moment.

“Nothing else,” Beau reassures her, then scoots toward the edge of the bed to leave Yasha plenty of space, enough they won’t even touch if she doesn’t want to. Yasha takes a deep breath and simply nods.

Beau thinks she’s never felt so much relief for something so simple. She watches Yasha as she lies down - a little stiff, but not uncomfortable - she feels a new, unbridled happiness at the thought that she’s there - just _there_ , with her, not alone in a cell, not under someone’s mind control, not out there in the cold with no one to look out for her. Having Yasha in her bed isn’t just about desire anymore, it’s about-

Her train of thoughts is interrupted by Yasha’s eyes staring intently at hers. The barbarian opens her arms in a silent invitation, and Beau accepts it. She rests her head on Yasha’s shoulder and wraps an arm around her waist.

“This is nice,” Beau whispers, and hears a hum of approval coming from Yasha’s throat. She feels the body below hers relax a little, Yasha’s chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. There’s a hand playing with the short hair of her nape, so soothing she's already dozing off. She’s half-asleep when she notices Yasha’s eyes are wide open and looking intently at something above her.

“Whatcha looking at?” she mumbles.

“Us.”

That’s when Beau remembers about the mirror. She rolls on her back without fully freeing herself from Yasha’s arm and watches her reflection do the same. And she sees it. Just the two of them - together, safe, in the middle of a huge bed.

“I could get used to it,” she utters.

“Yeah, me too.”


	2. Yasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are in love ok? Ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I love them so much I had to write another chapter

_This is fine. It’s cool. Just a little further than you planned, but not too far. We talked about this. You’re going to take it slow, but you have to start somewhere. This is a good start._

Yasha’s lying awake, Beau’s head pressed against her shoulder, arm holding her tight at the waist. The monk dozed off almost immediately.

_She must’ve been so tired. She’s always staying up late trying to figure things out, poring over those books and notes. Pushing herself to the limit._

Beau lets out a loud snore and Yasha feels a tug in her chest, her thumb instinctively stroking her skin to soothe her.

_You should try to sleep too. Stop overthinking this. You’re just lying in the same bed, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Yet. Or ever._

Yasha huffs through her nose, trying to let out her frustration in the quietest way possible. Not overthinking, of course, it’s easier said than done. The voice in her head, the very voice that’s trying to rationalise what’s just happened, just won’t. Shut. Up.

_Ok. We’re gonna close our eyes, and we’re going to sleep. Remember, no more denying, but no rushing into anything._

She closes her eyes.

_Kinda hard to take it slow when she’s just said that- Nope. We’re taking it slow. Beau doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s not familiar with intimacy. She’s probably overestimating her feelings. You have to set the pace._

She takes a deep breath.

_Ok. Bedtime._

There's a whole minute when her brain manages to stay still. She almost steps over the threshold of sleep, but she’s suddenly pulled back.

_You don’t deserve this._

Her jaw clenches.

_Sorry. Old habits. We’re moving on, we’re opening up. Remember the dream. Remember the Stormlord. Remember the wings. Remember Zuala._

Zuala.

_You were so strong, Zuala. I wish you could be here, you’d know what to do. I know what you would tell me, I know, my beloved. You always wanted me to be strong and free. Happy. I just... surviving you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I was a coward for that and I’d be a bigger coward to just end it, but it takes every drop of my feeble willpower to keep going. If only I could hear your voice again, if only I could be sure of what you told me that night._

Yasha stirs, the tension in her thoughts leaking into her body.

_You know what she said._

_It’s hard to follow through, but we made a promise to ourselves. We will try, that’s settled. So grit your teeth and do the work._

_You’re right. We can do this. It’s just hard to fight when you’re fighting against yourself._

_I’m losing my goddamn mind._

Yasha shakes her head, trying to untangle her thoughts. Each time she closes her eyes, the same internal monologues loops in her brain until she’s too exhausted to stay awake. It’s driving her crazy. She hopes for something, anything, that could make the voices stop. Something to anchor her.

_Maybe there is something._

There’s something, she thinks, some evidence that it all happened. And maybe... maybe the mirror will be useful, after all. The only issue is how to go about it without waking up Beau.

The monk is almost lying on top of her, it only takes a small push to scoop her up and fully hold her in her arms. Beau snorts and snuggles against Yasha’s neck, unbothered. She lets out a small, contented sigh that makes Yasha’s chest flutter.

_Alright, focus._

Yasha concentrates to find the smallest amount of force that will give her what she needs. After a few tries, she feels it. Her body is lifted from the mattress as if a root had been pushing through the ground behind her.

_There they are._

In the mirror, she can see the tip of her wings peeking right above her shoulders, still closed. They tug and push to spread, but she keeps them under control. It takes an incredible effort to do so, she’s still getting used to them.

Slowly, carefully, she spreads them wide, letting them fill the entire bed and reach beyond its edges. Tiny blue sparks of lightning run silently through the otherwise perfectly white feathers.

 _They’re beautiful -_ she thinks, before realising they are part of her. And when she does, there’s a moment of dissonance - _how can they be me and beautiful? -_ that leaves her a little disoriented.

The memory of her dream comes back, sharp and clear, and with that, Zuala’s words. _Don’t let me be your shackle._ Yasha feels a sudden stillness, a quiet revelation: Zuala’s memory deserves to be something better than pain and guilt. It deserves to be gentle and joyful like she was.

_I’ve been honouring your memory the only way I knew, my beloved, but it wasn’t fair to you. You’re not a chain, a burden. You’re my roots and she’s my sail._

She tries a few movements. They’re so big, it’s hard to measure the strength she needs to lift them, fold them, stretch them. She tries to move her right one and ends up rolling dangerously on the left, almost flipping herself and Beau. The monk hums, almost enjoying the gentle rocking.

_Let’s try again._

This time, she engages the correct tendons and her wings fold forward, wrapping around their bodies like rose petals. Beau shuffles in Yasha’s arms and lets out a faint “Um, soft,” in her sleep, “Warm.”

Yasha feels the urge to laugh. She wants to let out the explosion of tenderness in her chest, but she doesn’t want to make noise, so she settles for a silent smile that makes her face hurt. To her surprise, it turns into a sob that she has to stifle against Beau’s hair.

_Oh, Stormlord._

Her chest feels lighter, filled with a violent, unexpected euphoria. A thousand thoughts clash inside her mind, voices overlapping in a dissonant choir - hers, Zuala’s, the Stormlord’s.

_Protect her. Who am I without my guilt? Grieve the sadness that was part of you for so long, then let go. Show me your strength. I forgive you. She can look after herself. You’re crying. I’m crying?_

She brings a hand to her face and finds it wet. She sniffles and hastily dries her tears with the back of her hand, thinking she won’t be able to explain it to Beau if she wakes up. Which she doesn’t. The monk is sleeping like a stone, blissfully passed out in her arms.

After a minute, they both plop back on to the mattress as Yasha’s wings disappear with a faint crackle. Finally, her mind is blank and sleep takes her like a wave takes an empty shell from the shore.

_\---_

When Yasha wakes up, she notices two things: the first is that her back hurts, a clear sign she’s overslept. She twists to one side and her vertebrae readjust with a loud _crack!_ that leaves her worried she’s snapped herself in two. The second thing she notices is that she’s alone.

Of course, that wouldn’t be noteworthy if she weren’t in Beau’s room and didn’t remember distinctively falling asleep with the monk in her arms. It’s hard to tell the time in Caleb’s tower, there’s no shift in sunlight, no birdsongs or roosters cries. She drags herself out of bed, feeling groggy yet fully rested - and she realises for the first time in years she’s had a dreamless night.

For a moment, she panics. She immediately searches her memory for Zuala and when she easily finds her - unscathed and within reach - she sighs in relief. Not forgotten, then, just... peaceful.

She takes a few tentative steps towards the other room, the wooden floor hard and fresh under her bare feet. Beau is sitting at her desk, staring at some notes, hand firmly lodged between her palms. She looks like she’s trying to squeeze a solution out of her brain.

Yasha clears her throat and Beau all but jumps out of her chair.

“He- hey. Mh. Hi, Yasha. Did you... sleep well?”

Beau looks like she’s been up for at least a couple of hours, had time to get dressed, maybe even meditate. Yasha looks at the clock on the wall, trying to figure out how long she’s been out.

“It’s almost midday,” she mumbles running a hand in her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, I thought I’d let you sleep, you looked like you needed it.”

“Mh.” Yasha nods, then stretches her arms above her head and arches her whole body. Another couple of bones crack as she yawns. “Your mattress is very soft.”

“I guess it’s softer than what you’re used to,” Beau admits. She looks away for a moment, and when she looks back at Yasha she’s less flustered and a little more worried. “Hey, I just have to ask... are you ok?”

And Beau is doing _the thing,_ Yasha thinks, the thing where her voice gets a little deeper, her chins dips a bit, her right eyebrow perks up almost imperceptibly, the thing that means _the answer to this question is important to me_.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” Yasha answers after a thoughtful moment.

“Because you said you weren’t ready and then I asked you to stay and when I woke up we were sort of...” Beau interlocks her stretched out fingers, failing to find a suitable verbal explanation, “you know. I hope I didn’t push you or anything.”

“I’m fine... are _you_ ok?”

Beau laughs nervously and shrugs her shoulders: “Yeah, I’m cool, I’m- I’m dandy.”

“You seem a little nervous.”

“N-naah, I’m chill!”

“There’s something you said last night-”

“I mean, yeah, I did let that thing about my feelings for you slip up, which is super embarrassing, but we don’t have to address that right now. In fact, let’s not-”

“That’s not... that’s not what I’m talking about, Beau.”

“Oh.”

Yasha takes a few steps closer and Beau immediately stiffens.

“You said you’re worth nothing more than the clothes you’re wearing.”

“That’s just a figure of speech-”

“I should have said something then, but I was... a little overwhelmed if I’m honest. But I have to now, Beau.” She reaches for her hand and finds no resistance. “I hate that they made you think you’re worth so little. You’re an incredible warrior, you’re brave, you’re fiercely protective, and you’re so, _so_ smart. I’m in constant awe of you, Beauregard, of how you put your entire heart in everything you do, how-”

Before she can finish, there’s a hand in her hair and lips pressed against her own. It’s urgent and clumsy and entirely too dry but Yasha’s heart finds its way to her throat regardless.

“Fuck! Shit! Sorry - I’m _so_ sorry,” Beau apologises as she steps back, “I just needed you to shut up!”

Yasha raises an eyebrow, confused.

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t know how to deal with compliments, ok?”

Yasha raises her other eyebrow.

“You’re right, that’s not the issue. I shouldn’t have done that. Shit! You clearly want to take things slow and I’m just the biggest fucking asshole-”

This time, it’s Yasha who grabs Beau’s face between her big, callous hands and pulls her in a hasty kiss.

Beau stutters something as they part, but Yasha presses their foreheads together and the words die in her mouth. There a long silence. Yasha’s hands fall from Beau’s face to her shoulder, then travel down her arms to find fingers to hold.

“I’m trying to convince myself I deserve this, Beau,” her voice is low and sweet as always, “and I’m gonna need you to do the same, ok?”

Every cell in Beau’s body is screaming for her to jump through the stained glass and into the void that surrounds Caleb’s tower.

“I don’t know what to say,” she finally strings together after what feels like forever, “I’ve been trying, it’s just... hard.”

“I know.”

“My entire life I was told I’m worth nothing.”

“Well I’m telling you the exact opposite, so you must think I’m either dumb or a liar.”

Beau’s mouth drops open as she realises she has no idea how to reply to that.

“I... you... wait, what?” Yasha’s lips quirk on one side, just enough for her to spot it. “You’re... joking?” she asks tentatively.

“Yes,” Yasha says plainly.

“Fuck, Yash! What’s wrong with you!”

Yasha chuckles softly and Beau lets out a breath that turns into a relieved laugh. The silence between them becomes comfortable and Beau’s urge to run as far as possible slowly disappears, turning into something calmer and maybe a little bold.

“Can I kiss you properly?” she whispers as she slowly leans closer.

And Yasha nods - thank the Gods Yahsa nods - and Beau takes her time, cause this is it, this is- A loud, growling noise startles them and they both look down, where it came from.

“Um... you hungry?” Beau chuckles.

“Starving,” Yasha admits, cheeks quickly turning red for a number of reasons.

Beau settles for a soft peck on Yasha’s lips.

“Let’s go, I’m pretty sure the others are having lunch. We may have some explaining to do.”

Yasha considers, then grabs Beau’s hand and holds it as she starts walking towards the door.

“Maybe this will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at das-gay.tumblr.com


End file.
